Do the Hippgriff
by The Flying Author
Summary: It's a cold, dreary, slightly sunny day, and Ginny Weasley has been appointed to visit Harry, and, as usual, something goes wrong. This innocent little visit turns out notsoinnocent.


_Do the Hippogriff_

Authors Note: So, once again, a product of insomnia and my own perpetual waiting over what is going to happen between Harry and Ginny. The fact that I am avoiding my history exam like the plague has nothing to do with it, I swear.

Disclaimer: The title, as anyone with the soundtrack to _Goblet of Fire_, is in fact, a very lovely song by the "Weird Sisters." Harry and Ginny don't belong to me, either.

Dedication: To the composer of the soundtrack to the latest Potter film, as I have yet to dedicate anything to him. Oh, and the cast and crew of all the movies. (You can tell I've run out of people to dedicate things to. I once dedicated a chapter to the pope.)

Oh, and the title has nothing to do with the story. I just thought it was a cool title. Although, you will find "Do the Hippogriff" in the first sentence, you will not find it anywhere else in this story. Just to let you know.

* * *

Ginny Weasley pulled her windbreaker closer to her as she crossed Mrs. Figg's lawn, humming "Do the Hippogriff." It was a cold and dreary day, a day Ginny would rather spend inside, reading a nice book, perhaps sleeping, but she was walking across Little Winging, her destination set on one Harry James Potter. 

She held the brown sack tighter, as the slight breeze began to pick up. It whipped her hair about, as she desperately tried to control it under her hood, but it was a lost cause. Her hair was too long. Looking at the ground, she counted the cracks in the pavement, occasionally looking up to make sure she was still headed for Harry's house. Well, more like his relative's house, she thought. It was never really a home to Harry.

Thirty-five and a half cracks later, and Ginny was standing in front of number four, Privet Drive, and was slowly walking towards the clean, white door, which was surrounded by perfectly trim hedges, which bordered a perfectly trimmed yard which could be no bigger than ten meters around, and the driveway was perfect—no cracks, no extra pebbles lying around—just sheer perfection. Ginny shivered. The prefectness of the house was unnerving. How anyone could call this…prison a home was just insane. It had no character; it was simply a cookie cutter London-suburb home.

Ginny rang the doorbell, noticing all the windows were dark. She sighed, not expecting anyone to answer the door, and shifted her weight. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and a tall, scrawny boy with messy black hair and clothes that were much too big for him, appeared in the doorway.

"G-ginny?" The boy choked out, looking very surprised to see his former girlfriend standing on his aunt's front stoop. "What are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Harry." She said in a monotone voice. "Can I come in? Mum heard Ron was at Hermione's for the time and sent me here with some food. She seems to think you are malnourished. Funny, I'm thinking the same thing…" She said, as she noticed his very unkempt state. "What have you been doing for the last two weeks?"

"Nothing," Harry said, stepping aside. "Come in, please. No one is home, it's just me. Vernon and Petunia went to some event at Dudley's school…encouragement on how to beat up innocent bystanders, I suppose."

"Ah, I see." Ginny said, walking into the house and into the kitchen. She set down the sack of food, and turned to Harry. "Harry…you look like you haven't showered or eaten in ages. Go, take a shower. I'll stay down here and get some food out."

Harry showed no objection, and walked back upstairs to go shower. Soon, Ginny heard the sound of water running through the pipes, and she relaxed. She had never seen what Harry looked like at the Drusleys—what he looked like after the death of someone important in his life had died. Sure, she saw him when he came to the Burrow, but he seemed so happy—not like this ghost of a person upstairs showering.

Sighing, she slowly opened the sack and pulled out a bowl of mashed potatoes. It was slightly warm, and the clear lid was steamed up from the heat of the food. Next she pulled out about a dozen turkey sandwiches—how Harry was supposed to eat these and keep it from his family she would never know—and placed them by the potatoes. Next came a bowl of green beans followed by some Shepherds Pie. She really hoped that Harry's relatives were going to be gone for a while—it would take him forever to eat all this food.

A little while later, water stopped running through the pipes, and the stairs began to creak, as Ginny snored. Before she knew it, someone was shaking her, and all she did was swat at them and turn over.

"Ginny…Ginny…" A voice that was distinctly not her mother called. She jerked, and woke up, looking at Harry. "You fell asleep," he said, sitting in a chair.

"Right," she said. "Mum made you lots of food...I have no idea how you are going to eat all of this…" Ginny wasn't finished before Harry dug into the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"This is the best meal I've had in ages," he said, through a mouthful of potatoes. Harry swallowed. "Thanks."

"No problem." Ginny said, standing up. "Do you need laundry done? You're room cleaned? I was told to take care of you for a day."

"No, not really. I haven't done anything for days—there's nothing to do."

"Oh, okay." She sat back down. "There's nothing?"

"Nope." Harry said, continuing on with a sandwich. A long silence followed in which Ginny fiddled with her hair and retied her shoes three times. Harry finished the majority of the food and went upstairs to brush his teeth.

Humming to herself, Ginny cleaned up the food. She thought about how unhealthy Harry looked, like he hadn't eaten since leaving Hogwarts—_That was three weeks ago_, she said to herself. He looked so tired, so worn out, like he would never be happy again.

Harry reentered the kitchen once more, and helped Ginny clean the containers that various amounts of Mrs. Weasley's food once occupied. "What have you been doing at the Burrow?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

Ginny looked at him. "Planning for the wedding, trying to convince Mum to let me go back to Hogwarts…"

"Why would she need convincing?" He asked, drying a plate.

"Death Eaters infiltrated it last month, what's saying they won't again? That's what Mum's worried about. Dumbledore's not there, she's convinced that I'll die at Hogwarts or something." Ginny said, walking away from the sink and leaning against a counter. "But she's so obsessed with Bill's wedding. She's even started spurting out bits of French because she's around Fleur's family so much." Harry nodded, as if vastly intrigued with what Molly Weasley was up to. "And then she is constantly flitting over everyone else; asking when they are going to get married, and then ten minutes later telling them that war is no time to get married, and eloping is a bad idea, even if it's what she did.

"And then she asks me if I am going to elope when she is cleaning the house, and Mum is just freaking herself out over everything—not that Dad's much better. He's hardly ever home, but that's not his fault, really."

Harry walked over to her. "I wish there was something I could do."

"Come and spend the summer with us."

"I—" He contemplated telling her about the horcruxes. "I can't. I mean, I'll come for the wedding, but I need to go fight him."

Ginny had no reply. She walked into the Living Room, wrapping her arms around herself, and sighed. If only she could make him see how much that they needed him—how much she needed him. She could feel him walk into the room; she felt his presence and sighed again.

"Ginny…" He started, as she turned around. He looked down at her, took one step towards her, and placed his lips on hers. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He grasped at her, and wove his hands in her hair. She pressed her tongue to his lips, and he granted entrance. His hands left her hair, and traced patterns on his back, as her hands slowly worked their way down his back to the edge of his shirt, as she started to pull it up.

Harry lifted his arms up, and Ginny took his shirt off and ran her hands over his chest. He was making quick work of the buttons on her blouse, when she stopped herself.

"Harry…" Ginny panted, stepping away from him. "We—we can't. We shouldn't. It's…it's not right." She tumbled over to a wing-backed chair, and sat down, slowly buttoning up her shirt, as Harry backed away.

"I…I don't know…what happened…" He said, looking bewildered, and as if he had been caught stealing something from the local drug store, not trying to make a move on his ex…well, was she really his ex?

"You know what Harry?" Ginny said, abruptly standing up.

"What?"

"I should leave. It looks like it might rain, and I really need to get home."

"Ginny…it's sunny out for the first time in ages."

"Oh…well then…"

"Look, I'm sorry. We shouldn't have taken it that far, I don't want to pressure you into sex or anything—"

"WHAT?"

"What? What did I say?" Harry asked, throwing his hands up.

"WE ARE NOT HAVING SEX, HARRY JAMES POTTER! NOT UNTIL I AM MARRIED!" Ginny said, turning red in the face.

"So are you saying that if you marry say, oh, Colin, we can have sex?"

"No, that's not—that's not the point, Harry, and you know it."

"It's not?"

"No, it's not! I swear, you are insufferable!"

It suddenly began to rain. The sun was shining brilliantly, and then suddenly, there was a downpour. Water began dripping in the open window, and Harry ran to shut it, lest water drip in the house and leave water marks on the window seal.

"Ha! I told you it would rain!"

Harry looked at her. "Okay, just shut up!" He cried, and sat in her formerly occupied chair. A very awkward silence followed, which was terribly deafening. Finally, Ginny spoke.

"I suppose I am going to be going. I really should…you're relatives are bound to return, aren't they?"

Harry looked up, startled at her sudden outburst. "Um, yeah, they are."

Ginny smiled sadly, and went to the kitchen to collect the paper bag, and her windbreaker. She put it on, and walked to the front hallway, where Harry was standing, hands shoved in his pockets, looking distinctly like the shy little boy she first saw when she was ten.

"Well, thanks for having me over, Harry. I mean, I wasn't exactly invited, but you know…" she stammered.

"Yeah, I know." He looked at his toe, and then the wall, and then the tiny black speck on the floor, and then the caulking on the stairwell, before he finally got the courage to ask her something. "Look, Ginny, about us…"

"Harry, no. I understand. I realize that you need to do this alone, and everything like that. I understand." She said, looking at him.

"Um…"

"And—and we can be 'us' again after the war, okay?"

"Yeah, that's what I wanted. Sort of."

Ginny smiled sadly again, and put her hand on the door knob. "Come to the wedding, okay? And then we can be 'us' after the war." Harry nodded as she walked out of the house, and shut the door behind her.

He looked out the window by the door, and watched her walk all the way down the street, and turn towards Mrs. Figg's house, just as the rain was lightening up. Harry sighed and realized that there would be an "after the war."

And he would just have to be there for it.

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End Note: Let me know what you all think! Feedback is MUCH appreciated. It keeps me feeling warm and fuzzy on cold, lonely nights where I think about how much I need to stop updating my live journal every five minutes. 


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